The Ferrari guy is the saddest thing I have ever read.
LeaguesOfOurOwn
leaguesofourown
I used to work in a seafood restaurant in a resort town in northern NH. During the fall foliage season we were inundated with tourists from around the world wanting to see the colorful leaves. Many of these tourists were older people who came on tour buses. The old ladies would press a quarter into your palm, then…
The entire point of this post was to type Hunan Human, right?
Rachel Dolezal should get moving on this immediately.
This has been a subject that has fascinated me for a long, long time. Unfortunately, I’ve only had second (probably third) hand stories about some relative on my mother’s side of the family telling stories about the end days of slavery; the usual “Hey, why’s this white guy holding Grandma...huh. They look…
We had a customer who worked a few blocks away and came into our coffeehouse everyday. She was a huge pain in the ass. She wanted a decaf cappuccino with “extra, extra foam”. My brother was the only one she allowed to make it, when she found out he was going away to college she panicked and my brother had to promise…
If you’ve ever had a job that involved serving customers *anything,* food or not, these stories trigger memories. And the “no food” clause is conveniently at the beginning so you can skip them if you wish.
The discriminated-against OpenTable lady is definitely one of the commenters who thinks we are too mean to the South on this blog.
I worked in group homes for mentally handicapped adults for many years and I’m dead serious when I say that Caramel lady sounds like some of the residents I had to deal with. I can absolutely picture myself talking to a new staff member and explaining why Betty was not allowed into any coffee shop unsupervised after…
Uh, I think the cops are looking for you.
Evil. Part Two.
Then you don’t order it. Or you never order it again. What you don’t do is demand to know why the sandwich you just bought does not taste like a sandwich you bought 25 years ago, which you probably don’t even remember clearly. It doesn’t matter if the sandwich wasn’t as good as the one you had in New York. What…
I have two stories, both from the same city, both from 2 entirely types of guests, but both have one thing in common. Evil. Part One.
i have a house guest from the other side of the country. in his head, because i do in fact live in a capital city, it’s a “big city”, as he also lives in a capital city and it’s actually a big city.
“Why doesn’t this taste like the corned beef I had in New York twenty-five years ago?”
OH MY GOD THE CARAMEL WOMAN.
Fun Dairy Queen story (no angry cusomters, sorry).